


Jumon de Fūjirareta Hanzō

by cantodelcolibri



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Ella Enchanted, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, but only a lil - Freeform, gets a lil smutty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 20:40:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8938300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cantodelcolibri/pseuds/cantodelcolibri
Summary: At his birth, Hanzo of Hanamura was the unfortunate recipient of a callous spirit’s gift- the “gift” of obedience. Hanzo must obey any order given to him, whether it’s letting his brother win their kendo matches, or committing crimes in his family’s name. But Hanzo does not bow his head at his fate. Against enemy gangs, bandits, meddling terrorists, bounty hunters, and a scruffy would-be prince that Hanzo really should be trying to get away from, he goes on a quest to break his curse- or die trying.Or, Hanzo EnchantedIt’s an Ella Enchanted AU because happy mchanzo week day #3 AU





	

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely 1800’s inspired timeframe  
> See end notes for translations

That fool of a spirit Vaswani did not intend to lay a curse on the newborn heir to the Shimada clan. She meant to bestow a gift. When Hanzo cried inconsolably through his first hour of life, his wailing was her inspiration. Shaking her head sympathetically at his mother, the shining spirit of blue light touched his nose. “My gift is obedience. Hanzo will always be obedient. Now stop crying, _Shimada-bō._ ”

He stopped.

His father was away dealing with matters of their criminal empire. In his absence, he left the head of his guard, Ana Amari, there. She and his mother were horrified, but no matter how they explained it to Vaswani, she wouldn’t retract the gift. Hanzo could picture the argument, Ana’s eyes blazing in anger, tattoo standing out sharper than usual. His mother still and intense, her dark hair damp from labor curling around her solemn eyes.

He couldn’t imagine Vaswani. All he knew of spirits was that they shone a blue brighter than the sky.

Genji’s birth was kept secret after that ordeal, and Hanzo was too young then to think that perhaps if the spirit realm had been informed of his birthing, then there might have been someone to intervene when their mother drew her last breath in giving Genji his first.

Genji was three and Hanzo six when he first gained awareness of his curse. He was taken from his toys and handed a bamboo sword. Ana guided him through the movements of kendō, and then onto kyūdō. She set up the target, helped position his arms, kicked his ankles to widen his stance, “Shoot the center of the target.”

The first arrow hit dead center. Hanzo felt a thrill to do so well on his first try.

Ana nodded at him, smiling, but distracted by a maid that ran forward carrying the bundled newborn Fareeha. Ana said without thinking, “Keep shooting. Keep aiming for the center.” She left to feed her daughter.

He reached back for another arrow and shot the center again. And again. And again, until he ran out of arrows. He went to pull them out and shoot again. And again. His fingers were not accustomed to such rigorous practice. Blisters began forming and bleeding, but he couldn’t seem to put down the bow. His palm was riddled with splinters, his muscles ached from pulling back the string.

Ana returned, and found him choking back sobs as he loosed arrow after arrow in perfect form.

She recognized the spell at work. “Stop shooting, _Shimada-bō.”_

He stopped.

Anyone could control him with an order. It had to be a direct command, such as “Take off your geta inside the house,” or “You must go to bed now.” He was free to ignore requests, but against an order he was powerless.  

If someone told him to sleep outside the mosquito net, he’d have to do it. If he was commanded to commit seppuku, he’d have to do it. He was in danger at every moment, and he grew up wary of that very fact.

As he grew older, he learned to delay the obedience. But every moment of resistance caused him pain, breathlessness, nausea, dizziness. Despite the iron strength of his will, he would never hold out for long.

Hanzo had guardian spirits. Ana told him his mother had begged them to take the curse away. “Spirits can do conceivably anything, tales say they can even bring the dead back to life. But your spirits said that a spell can only be removed by the spirit that placed it.” Ana said, running him through katas early one morning. “However, they also said it could be broken someday without Vaswani’s help.”

Hanzo frowned, not comforted by the information. He didn’t even know what his guardian spirits were.

* * *

 

Hanzo’s saving grace was his station. Orders were rare coming from anyone in the castle, and Ana rarely gave orders after the incident with the bow. His father knew nothing of the curse and was at the castle too infrequently to issue commands. But Genji began spouting orders the moment he learned how to talk. Hanzo took weeks to teach him to phrase his orders as requests instead. The toddler took to it quickly enough, eager to please.

When Hanzo was eight, their clan’s elders paid a visit to their estate at Hanamura. His father was there to receive them, and his sons were brought into the main hall dressed in their finest to show the strength of the Shimada lineage to those that came before. During the tea ceremony, he felt the elders’ probing eyes watching him, measuring him, taking into account the boy that would grow to become their lord. Even as a child, Hanzo knew the influence the elders had over their father’s decisions. Their mother’s death had reminded him of his own mortality, and he was desperate to grow their coffers and strengthen alliances to secure a good future for his sons.

Recently, they had begun riskier, greedier trade with other underground channels around the Kingdom of Gibraltar. Hanamura had seen an increase of King Morrison’s Overwatch patrols around the marketplace. If they weren’t careful, they would be found out and stripped of their title and land.

If the elders had no qualms using his father’s fear of losing his heirs after losing his wife, then they would have no qualms using him should they learn he couldn’t help but obey.

Ana, knowing full well what the elders of the Shimada clan were capable of should they know of Hanzo’s predicament, issued one of her infrequent commands: never to tell anyone about his curse. But he wouldn’t have anyway. Vaswani’s curse had taught him caution.

* * *

 

When Hanzo was almost eighteen and Genji fifteen, their father went away on a legitimate business trip to the Rock of Gibraltar to meet with the kings to discuss the recent crop failures his province was facing, and to ask for assistance with Deadlock activity encroaching on their borders. He took Ana with him, as well as a handful of the less obvious Shimada-gumi.

Genji took to playing with Fareeha in the days they waited for word back from the capital. He ran her through their ninja training, but she moved too heavily and had trouble absorbing the energy of her landings. Hanzo took to his father’s responsibilities in his absence, running numbers and observing their guards’ training, overseeing trade both above and below the table. Genji was supposed to help, but he either played hooky or did his job so terribly Hanzo would send him away to complete the task himself.

Hanzo passed by a window trailed by two of their merchants who advised raising the price on their gunpowder shipments when he spotted Fareeha jumping off a roof to try and run along the wall of the next building, only to lose momentum and leap for a rafter to save herself. She landed badly, hit her elbow, and Hanzo abandoned the papers in his arms to jump out of the window and reach her before she fell completely and broke her fool head open.

“She’s more suited for judo!” Genji called out in English from his perch on the roof, adjusting his plated headband across his forehead. Hanzo tried to reach out and grab Fareeha from where she hung upside-down, screaming in panic as her legs began to quiver.

 _“If Ana kills me for the loss of her daughter, I will kill you Genji!”_ Fareeha lost her grip on the rafter and plummeted down. Hanzo had to launch himself from the lip of the adjacent roof to catch her mid air and grab onto a windowsill to keep them from hitting the ground. He lifted her up and she scrambled through the window, hands temporarily snagging in his long hair, then she reached over to offer him a hand. He shook his head at her and swung himself up and in behind her. Genji whistled from far away.

“You didn’t roll on your landing.” Hanzo turned down to look at Fareeha. The twelve year old pouted.

“I would have fallen off the beam anyway!” She swung her head dramatically, the beads in her hair smacking against her cheeks.

“No you wouldn’t have.” he scolded and began to explain about the angles to consider when making multiple jumps, but he saw her eyes begin to glaze over and stopped. He sighed. “Genji is correct. You are better suited to judo.”

Her eyes began to glitter, “My mom thinks so too! She promised to teach me how to beat Genji up the next time he sneaks off with my dessert! When do you think she’ll be back?”

The answer was the very next day.

That evening, a messenger came from the Rock of Gibraltar, carrying a scroll that Hanzo accepted seated at the cushion to the left of his father’s in the main hall. He broke the royal seal and pulled it open. His eyes stalled on the second line of curving script.

Genji, seated at their father’s cushion’s other side, restlessly tapped his thighs. _“What is it, Hanzo?”_

Hanzo stared at the paper. His hands began to tremble. _“Father…”_ he whispered.

 _“Oh, it’s from him? How’s the capital? Did the kings really adopt a street urchin?”_  

 _“Father is dead.”_ Hanzo breathed. Genji froze. _“Ana is injured,”_ he continued slowly, forcing his eyes past the second line as dread grew within him. _“She is under the care of a palace physician, but she has asked to be transferred here. She is on her way. We should go meet her and provide backup should there be another attack.”_ He looked up and met his brother’s horrified gaze. _“Go ready the horses. I will alert the men and speak to Fareeha.”_

“Do you know who attacked my father’s caravan?” Hanzo looked up to address the messenger in the capital language, keeping his voice even and steady.

“No, my lord. Locals suggest the Deadlocks, but there has been no evidence to support their claims.”

The Deadlocks would make sense. They were the very problem his father had set out to resolve. Hanzo felt rage settle in with the grief choking at his throat. Genji dismissed the messengers and crawled over their father’s vacant cushion to sit before him. He clasped his hands around his shoulders.

 _“Hanzo.”_ he whispered, but got no response, _“Nī-chan, look at me.”_

An order. Hanzo’s brown eyes found mottled green.

 _“You’ll be alright. We’ll be alright. You’ll see. We have each other. I’ll help you, I swear it. I won’t leave you to this.”_ His hands moved to frame his face, _“I promise.”_

Hanzo wasn’t the first to let the tears fall. He reached up to wipe Genji’s cheek before wetness trailed down his own.

Ana returned in a litter carried by men of the palace. She had a brown stained patch over her right eye. The palace physician that was to stay with them until she either passed or recovered warned them that she was still in critical condition. Genji followed them with a sobbing Fareeha carried in his arms while Hanzo thanked them graciously for their effort on behalf of his late father. But the royal carriage still wasn’t empty. On a second litter lay their father’s corpse.

That night, Hanzo snuck out of the castle and headed into the forest. It was a long walk to the stone staircase his mother would carry him up in his earliest memories, but he had a prayer to make. At the top lay the family shrine, inside hung a tapestry of two dragons coiled around each other. He knelt at the foot of the lacquered steps, beneath the bell that hung overhead.

 _“If Ana recovers, I will be more than simply obedient. I will lead the family with pride and honor, I will bring glory to the family name as it has not seen in ages. I will try to be worthy of being in your good graces. Just...”_ His voice shook, _“Do not allow Fareeha to become orphaned as well.”_

* * *

 

“The Lord of Hanamura has left behind two grieving sons, one who is merely weeks away from taking on his mantle as lord of this province. We must pray the spirits grant him the wisdom of his father before him.” One of the elders wound down after droning on for almost an hour. Most of the speech had been about quashing illegal activity around Hanamura and giving their allegiance to Gibraltar and its rulers, Kings John and Gabriel, the newly anointed Prince Jesse, and Overwatch, who worked tirelessly to ensure their safety. Hanzo knew it was only to keep up appearances. King Gabriel himself had shown up to pay his respects. He stood at the end of the front line of mourners.   

Genji and Hanzo stood at the center of it, Fareeha between them crying softly. She reached up to clasp their hands together, and Hanzo ignored decorum to give her that small comfort. Her mother was out of the woods, but still hadn’t regained consciousness. Hanzo was eager for her to awaken so he could know who to exact his father’s revenge upon.

His body had been burned, his ashes placed in an urn under the altar beside his wife. Incense drifted up into the sky. The people gathered dispersed. There were refreshments set up on small tables under wide parasols. Hanzo knew he and his brother would be expected to play host in their mourning.

Genji, usually talkative and loud, was subdued and quiet throughout the entire event. Hanzo took one look at him and knew he couldn’t trust him to coddle the guests in his state.

 _“Can you watch Fareeha?”_ he asked his brother. Genji gave a soft, “mhmm” _._ Hanzo left to mingle amongst the guests and accept their words of well intentioned, but aggravating, comfort. After parting ways with a woman who spoke of nothing but his parents’ budding relationship, _“And a pity they both died so young, too!”_ Hanzo felt the beginnings of a headache bloom at his temples. He stepped back and saw King Gabriel hail him over to a table laden with tea. Hanzo took the offered cup.

“Your Highness,” he greeted, switching to English and dipping into a low bow. King Gabriel waved away the gesture.

“None of that. I don’t deserve it. I’ve told Jack time and time again to take bandit reports seriously at the outskirts of the kingdom. Hanamura is so near the borders of Hanmingug and Nippon that he preferred not to spend the resources to provide a constant guard outpost.”

Yes, Hanzo knew that. It was what their weapons smuggling relied on. It’s how the Shimada-gumi managed to operate under Overwatch’s watchful eye. “Please your majesty, the fault is not yours. I would deeply appreciate any aid from the capital, but a lord’s domain is firstly his own responsibility. The crown cannot be burdened with every small grievance of its subjects. My father failed to secure our lands, and that was his downfall.” He spoke coldly, biting back bile at every word. “I only hope I do not prove to have the same faults.”

“Hmmm.” King Gabriel looked down at him thoughtfully. Had he been too forward? Did he suspect? Hanzo diverted his gaze from the king’s, knowing full well his place. “You’re stepping into some pretty big shoes, little lord. I hope you’ve got big enough feet to fill them.”

“I… hope for that as well.”

King Gabriel nodded. “But if you do find yourself tripping in them, know that the sovereign is here to help their subjects, despite how the land is split.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

“Right. Now, where did Jesse go?” He ended with a mutter and walked away. Heart pounding, and head aching, Hanzo went off to find Genji.

Genji sat on a patch of grass at the edge of the cemetery. He was alone. _“Where is Fareeha?”_ Hanzo asked in their native tongue.

Genji looked up with a glazed expression and red eyes. _“I thought you had her.”_

Hanzo squinted. His eyes were red, but his face was dry. He had been smoking. He felt his headache worsen, _“Did you take from our opium stores?”_

Genji shrugged.

 _“Where is Fareeha?”_ he tried again. Genji gave a vague wiggle of his fingers. _“I expressly asked you to watch her!”_

_“You did?”_

_“Yes! She’s distraught, she can wander off, get lost-”_ he trailed off. Genji wasn’t paying him any attention. “Help me look for her, at least.”

 _“You go look for her.”_ Genji said. Hanzo cursed, but felt the curse take effect immediately. Genji didn’t know. He always took Hanzo’s proclivity to obey as a desire to please, and so he kept to giving his orders as requests. But Genji wasn’t thinking clearly with a head full of drugs, so Hanzo swallowed his ire and walked away in search of Fareeha.

He walked along the edge of the forest, fussing with his hair, uncomfortable in the heat. His hakama snagged on stray twigs and branches. He tripped on a root and felt the tie of his geta loosen. To keep it from falling apart, he walked softly, peering into the trees for any sign of the little girl.

He reached the edge of a field, then the road that led to the family shrine. At the foot of the staircase stood a young man. On his head sat a wide brimmed hat. On his waist hung a revolver. It was much more complex than Ana’s rifle. He stood casually, feet far apart, leaning back, thumbs hooked in his belt loops. Hanzo stepped closer and saw he had hair that curled at the nape of his neck and swarthy skin. Then he turned around and spoke.

“So yer the fella who's ol’ man died? You two close?” His accented voice was smoky and low, his eyes were a warm color brown. He was tall and strapping, bright in the light of the setting sun. He had the beginnings of a goatee dusting a chin held by a strong jaw. Lanky and tall. Handsome.

“Close enough for me to grieve his passing.” Hanzo answered honestly.

The young man nodded. “I’m sorry then. That he died.”

“I have received many condolences today. Whose am I receiving now?” Hanzo stopped when they were a meter apart.

“McCree. Jesse McCree,” he tipped his hat, and Hanzo frowned at the odd gesture. “And you are?”

“Jesse McCree.” Hanzo repeated, taken aback.

“You too? Well whaddaya know? Small world.” _Prince_ Jesse grinned widely down at him and winked.

“No!” Hanzo felt his face flushing, “I am Shimada Hanzo. I was not aware of who you were, your highness. I apologize.” He gave a bow.

“Now, hold on! There ain’t no need for that! I reckon you got more noble blood in you than I do. You’re a lord, ain’t ya?”

Hanzo nodded.

“Yeah, see? And I’m the lucky bastard that got adopted by a fuckin’ king, so there ya have it. No need.”

Things settled into an awkward silence. The curse began to nag at Hanzo. “Have you by any chance seen a child? Dark-skinned, golden beads in her hair? She is about this tall,” he gestured at his elbow height.

“Uh, no. You need help finding her?”

“No thank you, I have wasted enough of your time… McCree-sama.” He bowed again and turned to leave.

“It’s Jesse.” His voice followed him, along with a curious jingling sound. Hanzo looked back and found the prince’s spurred riding boots following him further along the road.

“I’m sorry?”

“Call me Jesse. Gabe only calls me McCree when he’s pissed.”

Hanzo gave him the most confused look he could muster. “What?”

“I mean, I guess you can call me Jessito if you wanna, or even Jess…”

“No, I’m sorry, what?” Hanzo was thrown, but he fought back his urge to do as bid and call the prince by his name. There stood royalty, acting as if he had nothing better to do than be friendly with the orphaned son of one of his fathers’ lords. “King Gabriel was looking for you only minutes ago! You would do best to return to the gathering!”

“Not until you call me Jesse.”

Hanzo considered him. He pursed his lips, but Jesse had given him an order, so he had to obey. “Jesse then.”

Jesse smiled triumphantly. He fell into step beside him. “I know all about you,” he announced smugly as Hanzo peered behind a bush in search of Fareeha.

“Do you?”

“Gabe has been looking into bringing in more of the nobility into Overwatch. Your father sends reports about you ‘n’ your brother. You’re pretty handy with that sword, I hear.” he nodded at the katana strapped to Hanzo’s obi. “How ‘bout you? Have the rumors about me spread as far as Hanamura?”

Genji was more prone to gossip than Hanzo, and he had only referred to their new prince as a ‘street urchin’. Hanzo was not about to repeat the words to his face. “No, none that I am aware of.” He spotted movement amid the trees and they dashed forward just as Fareeha poked her tear streaked face from behind the leaves.

“There you are! Why did you wander away?”

“Hanzo, I’m cold.” she sniffed. Jesse made to pull off his jacket, but Hanzo was quicker to shed his haori and drape it around her shoulders. Jesse introduced himself, and Fareeha looked up at him in wonder to ask him his age.

“Turned seventeen a few months back.” Came his response. Fareeha turned her wide eyes on Hanzo.

“If you’re older, how come he’s taller?”

Hanzo sputtered, Jesse laughed, and together they walked Fareeha back to the funeral. They reached the line of gathered elders, who bowed.

“Thank you, Highness, for accompanying our lord and ward.”

Jesse returned the bow.

 _“Come Amari-san, Shimada-dono.”_ they said.

Shimada-dono, his new title. He wasn’t Hanzo anymore. Jesse followed when they led him and Fareeha to the carriage that awaited them. Genji was already seated inside, staring vacantly out the window. Hanzo handed Fareeha in, and just as he made to climb up himself, he felt the cord of his geta sandal snap and he slipped.

“Whoa there!” Jesse yelped, and Hanzo felt arms wrap around his middle just as he crashed back into him and knocked them both to the ground.

There were stifled gasps from the elders. Genji broke out of his stupor to chortle a laugh, and Fareeha leaned out of the carriage, “Hanzo, did you kill the prince?!”

“Naw, I’m alright.” Jesse said, sitting up, and Hanzo scrambled to get off of his lap where he’d landed. “Shimada-dono’s just had an outfit malfunction, not his fault. Here.” He reached for the fallen sandal and tied the cloth back together.

Hanzo accepted it gratefully, face red with embarrassment. He stood and offered his hand down to help the prince stand. “Thank you, but it’s Hanzo. I’m Hanzo.”

Jesse rewarded him with a brilliant smile, and took his arm to help him onto the carriage. “Hanzo then.”

* * *

 

Change came to Shimada castle, and it was not under Hanzo’s orders. Ana recovered slowly, and they trained with newfound vigor. She did not remember who had attacked their family.

“It all happened so quickly.” she whispered, and Hanzo swallowed anger brought on by disappointment and grief. “I am sorry, Hanzo. The spirits granted me my life, and yet what do I have to show for it?”

“You, here. I am grateful every day that we did not lose you as well.” Hanzo replied.

The elders, concerned for the fate of their criminal empire under a mere eighteen year old, did as they had not for generations- they moved into the castle. Hanzo attended meetings with them, shadowed by Genji whenever he graced them with a willingness to do his duty to the family.

Years were spent under the stress and toil of lordship. Hanzo was constantly exhausted, Genji preferred to spend his time in the taverns, among the youngest of Shimada-gumi recruits, behaving wildly and without abandon. More than once, Hanzo had to step in to make sure Overwatch did not arrest his brother in his illegal ventures. One night, Hanzo had to go out of his way to hunt Genji down when he failed to show up to escort one of their caravans. His ditching resulted in the crown getting their hands on shipments of opium and the suicide of four capable men to keep the family’s involvement a secret. It was not the first time Genji had failed to do his job, but his line of failings led to a loss of faith in the Shimada name.

 _“Genji!”_ he roared after he open the door to the tavern. Genji, seated at the bar, looked up, threw up a peace sign and offered a, _“Yo.”_

 _“I met a spirit at the carnival earlier! Look! Green hair!”_ he went on and pointed at his head, which was a mossy green.

 _“You- Genji!”_ Hanzo let his temper flare, _“Spirits are dangerous! What are you doing here? You were to guard the caravan!”_

 _“That was tonight? Aw shit, I’m sorry Hanzo. I forgot! Don’t be angry.”_ he slid off his barstool and sauntered over to him.

All the fight went out of him, but the bitterness at Genji’s newfound flippant habit of ordering him around left a bitter taste in his mouth. _“You look like a kappa,”_ he groused, then sighed. _“Sometimes I think you do this on purpose.”_

_“What, mess with the elders’ plans? The ridiculously ambitious ones that will result in you, me, and Ana behind bars? Maybe even Fareeha! She’s eighteen now, nī-chan.”_

_“We would not get caught if you did as ordered.”_

_“We would not get caught at all if you grew a backbone and learned to say no to them once in awhile.”_ Genji retorted. Hanzo did not have a response. The elders never ordered him to do anything. All they had to do was invoke his father and Hanzo was eager to please.

_“Let’s go home. I hope you find a good excuse for your hair at the gathering tomorrow evening.”_

The elders began dealings with two rival criminal rings, the Muertos and Talon, to improve their standing in the criminal community and cement territory lines. To ensure goodwill, a pair of their agents were sent to Shimada castle as envoys. Hanzo and Genji greeted them seated in their raised alcove in the main hall. The elders sat in a half circle around them, and introduced their newest contacts.

One was dark skinned and short, with wide hips and hair half pulled back in tight braids, the rest falling onto her right shoulder. The tips of her hair was dyed purple,and she looked to be around Fareeha’s age. Hanzo suspected she and Genji would make fast friends.

The other was tall and slender. Pale, perhaps a year or so younger than Genji. Her long hair fell in a loose coil behind her. Her lovely face was blank, devoid of any emotion as she stared impassively up at the Shimada brothers.

“This is Sombra,” one of the elders nodded at the former. “She is training to replace the Muertos’ current spymaster. And this is Amelie, of Talon. She will monitor how we operate. Within a few days, they will go off on a mission to the borders of Hanmingug to strike down a group of upstarts that are interfering with a trade route.”

“Our wish is for you to join them, my lords, to show how capable the Shimada-gumi are, as well as a gesture of good faith. Talon and Los Muertos will be important allies down the road. We must be very grateful for this opportunity.” said another.

“We are leaving by the end of the week.” Amelie said, voice was as lifeless as her expression.

“I wanna check out the carnival in town.” Sombra added.

“A squadron from Overwatch is rumored to be heading in this direction as well, chasing Deadlocks. I will observe their movements. Will that give you and your brother enough time to prepare for the journey?”

“Overwatch is coming here?” Hanzo asked, looking at each of the elders. “Why was I not informed of this?”  

Genji let out a sheepish laugh next to him. _“Oh, um, ha. I forgot to let you know, nī-san. I received a message from our scouts this morning.”_

Hanzo rubbed at his temples. Counted to ten. Steadied his breathing. Amelie snorted derisively. Sombra looked between the brothers in glee.

* * *

 

He consulted with Ana that night while she sat reading over reports in his office. She looked up to see Hanzo fussing with his long hair and tutted, then pulled open a drawer and from its depths drew a long yellow scarf, which she used to tie his hair back. He hummed his thanks.

“It was your mother’s.” she patted his back to signal she was done. He turned to look down at her and the dockets over the desk. “You look so much like her sometimes. Ah, but I’m getting old and sentimental. Let me just ask: are you sure about letting Talon and Los Muertos into the fold like this?”

Hanzo wasn’t, but he answered, “It’s what the elders advise.”

“The elders aren’t the head of this house, Hanzo. Did they order you?”

“No, they have not grown so bold as to attempt such.”

“You will be spending time in close proximity to this Sombra and Amelie. You must be cautious not to let them find out about your curse. They would make a puppet out of you.”

“No one would make a puppet out of me if I could be rid of this curse. Did my mother ever tell you how to find my guardian spirits?” he asked, not for the first time.

“No, she didn’t.” she answered as she always did.

“Do you know regardless?” he pressed. Ana shrugged. “How?”

“There is no need to find them. Yours latched onto you the moment your mother died. I saw it.” She tapped at her eye not covered by an eyepatch. “Your guardians are special. Your mother’s lineage stems from spirits. Their blood is in you. You carry them with you wherever you go.”

“How do I summon them?” he demanded.

“They can appear whenever they wish, but if you wish to call upon them, they need a conduit. A weapon and a tattoo.”

Hanzo asked if she would give him one. Ana sighed and told him the process would take a few days, and they couldn’t let the elders know. Hanzo promised to keep it hidden. Ana went to get a supply kit from her and Fareeha’s room and ordered him to his room. She would meet him there.

* * *

 

The next morning was sweltering hot, but Hanzo endured a long-sleeved yukata, covering the outline of a dragon curling around his arm.

He went to all the shopkeepers to ask after business and get their reassurances that they would hold their tongues should the kings’ men come asking questions. He went back to the castle for lunch, and upon leaving again turned a corner and bumped into Sombra, sitting on the floor surrounded by books and jotting down notes with a fountain pen. The jolt caused a blot of ink to streak across the page, and she cursed.

“ _Chico_ , I’ve been working on this for a fucking hour! Go bump into someone else!”

Hanzo left to bump into someone else.

The streets were clear when he made his way back through town, and the spell was tugging at Hanzo, leading him to whoever was unfortunate enough to be the closest bump victim. He heard the neighing of horses and braced himself when his feet broke into a run.

He crashed into the flank of a chestnut palomino and fell on his ass.

“Whoa there!” called the voice of the rider. Hanzo closed his eyes and rubbed at his now doubly sore left arm. “You seem familiar. Ain’t I seen you somewhere before?”

Hanzo opened his eyes and looked up to see the prince, even more handsome than the last time he’d seen him.

“Your high-?” The honorific froze in his throat, remnant of a command given years before. “Jesse?”  

The two men on horses behind the prince shifted to consider him, who dared to address their prince so informally. Jesse raised his arm to ward back an old man with a braided beard and eyepatch who rushed forward indignantly. The other one kept still, and was so incredibly large even his horse dwarfed Hanzo. He tried not to stare at the glass eye.

Jesse’s face was pensive, but then it cleared in recognition.

“Wait a second.” the prince snapped his fingers quickly and then pointed down at him. Hanzo frowned at the rude gesture. “You’re the lord around these parts, ain’t ya? Shimada-dono… no, Hanzo! It’s Hanzo, right?”

“Yes.” he said, standing. The soldiers behind Jesse relaxed. “I am sorry I did not send anyone to receive you. I was not aware you were coming.”

“Ah, we were only passin’ by, wranglin’ the last of the Deadlock outta Gorge, but we’re good now. The rest of the men’re on their way back to the Rock to put ‘em behind bars.” He swung off his horse and patted its side soothingly. His long limbs had filled out as well, and his shirt strained slightly across the chest. Hanzo was a bit dismayed that the prince had grown even more in the years past, and now had a head’s worth of height on him.

Jesse seemed to notice it as well, because his gaze traveled slowly from Hanzo’s head to his feet, then back up again. “Nice hair bow.” Hanzo was also a bit dismayed that the prince’s voice had also lowered in tenor.

“Are you flirtin’ with the locals again, boy?” the one with the eye-patch said.

Or maybe it wasn’t the height difference he noticed.

He straightened the scarf that hung against his back, “It’s not a bow.”

The prince leaned down and whispered conspiratorially, “Heard you got a neat lil’ troupe outta Rio doin’ a show here. You seen it yet?”

“No.” answered Hanzo. Jesse’s lips split into a wide smile.

“Great! Wanna go?”

“What?” Hanzo asked, bewildered, but Jesse was already climbing back onto his horse and offering him his hand.

“C’mon, take my hand!” he said urgently, and Hanzo was helpless to stop his own from clasping it. He situated himself snugly behind him to fit in the saddle, then they left his two guards in the dust. He took unnecessary twists and turns, trying to throw off his guards in case they tried to follow him.  

Jesse spoke loudly and quickly, greeting Hanzo like an old friend, and not the overwhelmed boy he had met at a funeral. He wore the same hat in lieu of a crown, and had a red cape strapped across his wide shoulders. When they reached the green tent, he let Hanzo jump down first, then handed the reins to a starry eyed attendant that had rushed outside to greet them.

“You honor us, your grace, but we do not have a showing scheduled for another two hours! Oh, but if you wish it, I can call the troupe and I’m sure they would be happy to-”

“No, no darlin’ that’s alright! Don’t you go stressin’ your pretty head over it!” Jesse spoke softly and crouched down to appear less intimidating. “I’d just like a look around, if that’s alright? Me and my friend here were just curious is all.”

“Friend?” Hanzo asked.

“Ah! Lord Shimada!” said the girl, apparently barely noticing him. He didn’t blame her. His clothes were dirty from his tumble and wrinkled from the ride.

“Uh…if you’re amenable?” Jesse rectified. Hanzo shrugged. Jesse pressed.

“Yes, fine.” Hanzo relented. Jesse grinned.

“Yeah, as I was sayin’, me ‘n’ my friend here’re just curious. Y’all got a petting zoo?”

“No, but the Santos family does train birds for their music act.”

“And where can we find these birds?”

She pointed them to another tent, whose insides revealed piles of empty cages stack haphazardly atop each other. The birds themselves roamed free, flitting from pole to pole, on top of cages, and a one swooped down to settle on Jesse’s hat. He gave a delighted laugh.

“Well howdy there!”

“Howdy!” the colorful bird squawked back. He laughed again. Hanzo found himself smiling. Another smaller bird came to perch on the hilt of his sword.

 _“Na-ege satangjuseyo!”_ The bird was ordering him to give it candy.

 _“Na hante satang gajima.”_ Hanzo said, in hope it would adopt his phrase instead.

 _“Na hante satang gajima!”_ It did. He sighed in relief.

“You speak Hangug-eo!” Jesse was watching him, impressed.

“Very little.”

 _“Quem é você?!”_ said a new voice, this one clearly human. From out of the depths of the tent stepped out a boy flocked by more birds. He tossed his blond dreadlocks back and looked at the pair suspiciously. Hanzo wondered where his parents were.

_“Meu nome é Hanzo. Este é o príncipe Jesse.”_

_“_ Just Jesse _.”_ he looked Hanzo over, “You speak Português too?”

“Less than very little.”

“Oh, I can do English.” said the boy. “You’re the prince? Why are you in our tent?” he went on as brazen as a child was expected to be unsupervised around royalty.

“‘Cause y’all don’t have a petting zoo, that’s why. What kinda rodeo show is this? Don’t even got one lousy burro!” Then the prince began bickering with a twelve year old like a twelve year old.

Hanzo wandered to examine more of the birds, which spoke a myriad of languages. He copied the sounds, identifying German and Mandarin, Ana’s Arabic, Dorado’s Spanish.

“Y’know, I’ve never been jealous of a bird before. This’s gotta be a first.”

Hanzo, who had been stroking the plumage of a vivid blue parrot, stilled. He craned his neck to look back at the prince when a tanned arm dusted with hair reached out over his shoulder to offer his bird a handful of nuts. One flurry of feathers and wings later, more had come to roost on them both. Jesse reached to the pocket of his cape and took out more. “Snacks.” he winked at him.

“What?”

Jesse huffed, and planted his hands on his hips, displacing half a dozen birds. Hanzo saw something glint behind him through the open flap of the tent. _“Apenas me diriges una palabra, pero resultas platicador con los pájaros. Me saliste un príncipe azul! Que carajo?”_

“I… do not speak Span-” he cut himself off when he saw a man step forward behind a pile of crates outside and level a pistol at the prince. Hanzo had a second to mourn the fact he never carried a bow and quiver, another to confirm the boy was safe, and then he surged forward to knock them both out of the path of the bullet.

It hit the spoke of one of the cages, and blasted through only to be stopped at the other side. A weak weapon, not one of his. This wasn’t the Shimada-gumi. Smugglers weren’t assassins.

Hanzo jumped to his feet, he charged forward and deflected another bullet with his sword. The man who had fired panicked at the sight of him and tried to run, but Hanzo cut him down before he made it farther than the next tent. He flipped the body over with his toe to see if he could identify him. He heard another pistol click and cursed, whipping around, sure he was about to be fired upon, but-

“Fellas like that ain’t dumb enough to be workin’ alone.” Jesse said, stepped out from beneath the Santos’ tent flap, revolver smoking slightly. Hidden behind another crate lay another man, this one bearing the crest of Talon.

Jesse whistled. “What’s Talon doin’ all the way out in lil’ ol’ Hanamura? In broad daylight no less? Don’t tell me y’all came all the way out here for me?” He directed his words at the two dead operatives. Hanzo suspected that Amelie’s arrival hadn’t been as solitary as he had been led to believe. Hanzo felt anger spike. Behind Jesse’s legs peeked the little boy. Jesse reached down and covered his eyes with a gloved hand. “It’s alright, Lúcio. That’s all of ‘em, but I’ll protect you if any more come running.”

“You came here without your guards. Given you blase reaction to an assassination attempt, I will take it this is not a first occurrence?” Hanzo asked, striding forward.

“Yeah, naw. Most see Reinhardt and turn right back around. Sorry for leadin’ such unpleasant fellas to your stomping grounds, Shimada-dono. Mighty ungrateful of me, seein’ as how you just saved my life an’ all. You lookin’ for a knighthood? I can make that happen.”

“You saved mine in turn. I am not a stranger to assassination attempts. I am simply glad I was here.”

“You really are handy with that sword. Ever think of joinin’ Overwatch?” Jesse asked, just as a crowd of people appeared, drawn by the sound of gunfire.

“Lúcio!” cried a woman, who rushed forward and all but knocked Jesse aside in her haste to reach the boy. She covered his giggling face with kisses and then peered at them. She recognized Jesse.

“Highness, thank you for protecting my grandson.”

 _“He’s the reason there was any danger.”_ muttered Hanzo in Japanese.

Jesse coughed, an embarrassed sound. His dark face flushed. “Ma’am, I’m sorry to say that I was the one that-”

Hanzo cut him off. “Jess-- Prince Jesse protected him and saved my life as well.”

“You saved mine first!”

“You have my gratitude.” The grandmother bowed her head, and then regarded Hanzo with eyes that seemed to see right through him.  “And you have the gratitude of the kingdom. He will not be the only one you save. I see it.”

“Avó is a fortune teller. She is very good.” Lúcio squeaked in her arms.

“JESSE MCCREE, YOUR FATHER WILL BE HEARING ABOUT THIS!”

“Aw crap.” Jesse whispered with feeling. He resigned himself to being caught by his guards, but looked at Hanzo with sparkling eyes. “Can you meet me later? At night? You know the area, I don’t, and I need to look into this. We’re only staying here for a few days, what if Talon has their claws- heh,” He broke off in a short laugh. “Has their _talons_ in Hanamura? I hafta write a report back to Gabe, and Jack will want to know if we should alert Nippon and Hanmingug.”

“Without your guards, I presume?” Hanzo fixed him an unimpressed look, but grateful he had phrased it as a request. For a prince, he didn’t hasten to give out orders.

“They’re not exactly the stealthiest.” He nodded at the two quickly approaching men on horseback that were causing quite the scene.

“Where? At what time?” If the Prince of Gibraltar was about to launch an investigation in his domain, Hanzo at least wanted to be present. If the Prince of Gibraltar was giving him an in to investigate those he was to close ranks with without the elders’ prying eyes, he would take it.

“Your castle?” Jesse suggested.

“No!” He shot down the idea quickly, thinking of the Talon associate currently residing within its walls. “Do you remember where we met?”

“That dinky lil’ shrine?”

Hanzo ignored the slight to a sacred family structure. “Yes. Will midnight work for you?”

“Perfect. See ya then, pardner.” he said just as a very large hand closed around the back of his cape. He winced. Hanzo made himself scarce.

* * *

 

Jesse found a set of keys on one of the bodies and managed to keep it hidden from his guards. He wanted to sneak into all the inns in Hanamura and find which room they led to.

“Why exclude your men?” Hanzo asked. “They are Overwatch, are they not? They would be able to aid you in your investigation.”

“Well yeah, but they’d wanna run it past Gabe first, and Talon’d be gone by the time we heard back. Plus, you’re a right sight prettier than two old men. A right sight prettier than most people, actually. You sure ya ain’t married yet?”

“I think I would know if I were.” Hanzo said in response to the most recent flirtation among many. He sighed and tugged at his left sleeve to make sure the now partly colored dragon tattoo remained hidden. He had changed his yukata for a nondescript hakama and gi, and Jesse wore clothes befitting an average peasant.

Throughout the night, Hanzo managed to keep them away from the brewery, whose cellars were storerooms for his people. He dragged them out of the tavern after a brawl in which both showcased their control over their weapons. They were running out of places to look.

“It is most likely the inn on the other side of the city main.” He explained, thinking of how it was far enough away to be out of the Shimada-gumi’s protection. “I believe I recall a similar make in their locks when once I visi- what are you doing?”

Jesse pulled them both into an alleyway when two figures could be seen approaching through the gloom. They were too far to identify, and Hanzo was pressed flush against the prince’s chest when he tried to look around the wall to get another look.

“Hold on there, darlin’, they might be Overwatch reinforcements. I know Torbjörn called for some.” He took off his hat and peeked himself.

A full grown prince hiding from royal law enforcement. Hanzo wondered if the kings were prone to disciplining their adult son. “Do you fear being caught and grounded, Jesse?” he asked with a grin.

Jesse frowned down at him, but his eyes shone with mirth. Hanzo hadn’t taken their proximity into consideration when he made the jab. His breath caught in his throat. He licked his lips and opened his mouth to say something, but Jesse spoke over him. “No. Now shut up for a minute.”

Hanzo’s mouth snapped shut. He couldn’t even growl his displeasure.

Jesse watched for a few more seconds and then turned back to him. “Alright, they’re gone. What were you saying?”

Hanzo still had forty seconds until he could speak again. He stared at him silently and took vindictive pleasure in making him wait, watching as it dawned on him that he was being left to hang.

“Uh...Hanzo?” he backed out of the alley, but Hanzo didn’t follow. He swept his hair behind his shoulders and regarded him coolly.

Jesse looked perplexed. “Are you sassing your sovereign, Hanzo?”

Hanzo would answer that he wasn’t technically sovereign yet, but he had fifteen seconds left.

Jesse looked as if he couldn’t decide whether to be scandalized or amused. He settled on a breathy laugh. “Well I never.”

* * *

 

They met again the next night, and Hanzo had to tread lightly to gently reroute their investigation so that his family’s business wasn’t brought to light. But despite the slight sabotage, Hanzo found he was enjoying himself.

Jesse was pleasant to be around, he was loud and animated, lively, and his laughter was infectious. In the hours they spent slinking in the shadows, he whispered jokes and coaxed a laugh out of him more than once. He liked Jesse’s wit, his kindness to rude citizens that didn’t recognize their prince in commoner clothing. He liked how he always checked with Hanzo before making a decision, and he liked that he took his advice and followed through instead of disregarding it and following through with his own, like the elders did. And perhaps what Hanzo most liked about him was that despite his station, he gave no orders. Perhaps it had to do with his upbringing. The crown figuratively on his head had found its way there late in his life.

Hanzo had a hard time concentrating on his own personal mission. But he managed, and they found the door the key led to and scoured the room. Their search resulted in a scrawled note for a rendezvous point the night before and nothing else. Out of leads and defeated, Hanzo, despite having enjoyed himself secretly, asked if it would be better for them to cut the evening short and return to their residences. When Jesse slyly suggested they put the empty beds to good use, Hanzo promptly bid him goodnight and fled, trying hard not to think about the possible repercussions of denying a prince’s proposition.

Luckily it had been a suggestion. Hanzo had never considered the implications of Vaswani's curse in a situation such as that. Sure, he found the prince attractive and he knew the feeling was mutual. But stepping beyond that? Forgetting the reality of who they both were? He had only barely started to know him, Hanzo didn’t know if Jesse would persist. Insist. Become bolder than flowery words and waggling eyebrows. What if he ordered him to his bed? Fear settled in his gut.

But what if he didn’t? Hanzo could admit to himself that it was fear that had led him to flee, but not fear of Jesse. It was fear of his own inexperience… Pride had led him to run when his hands had longed to touch instead.

He knew Jesse and his men would be there for one more night, but they had made no plans to meet. Hanzo sat restless through morning meetings with the elders and Amelie, who was impatient to leave to the border. He mused silently while Ana inked the finishing touches on his arm in the evening. He felt foolish when he climbed out his window when midnight rang and ran along the roofs of buildings to reach the road that led to the shrine. He knew he was adding fire to his fears, but he… wanted to see Jesse one more time. For no reason other than to commit the face of his friend to memory while they could still be friends.

Hanzo let out an audible sigh of relief when he saw Jesse standing at the top of the steps, colors washed out and bathed in moonlight.

“We did not agree to meet tonight.” he said slowly, carefully, making his way up. Jesse spun around to pin him in place with brown eyes full of relief.

“Oh hell, sweetheart, I thought I’d gone and mucked it up! You’re here!” He ran to the edge of the steps and waited for Hanzo to reach him. “You’re here. Why’re you here?”

“I thought it… appropriate to bid you farewell. I am gone on a business trip tomorrow, and you will return to the capital.”

“That’s it?” he sounded crestfallen.

“I…I was afraid that my response from last night would have resulted in you being less than pleased to see me again.” he admitted. He walked up to the shrine and knelt in front of the dragons to pay homage. Then he stood to face the prince.

Jesse’s face had clouded over, but he kept silent while Hanzo prayed. He took a moment to appreciate that. “About last night. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I uh.. Just thought that you’d uh… you were...” he tripped over his words. Hanzo tried to not find it endearing, but he failed. “That… you’d just… wanna? I guess.”

“Because you’re the prince?” He asked dryly.

“No! You jus’ look at me sometimes like…” he trailed off, embarrassed. Hanzo felt his face flush when his eyes lingered on how he bit his lip shyly. “You look at me like a person, Hanzo. Not like the prince, or a street rat, and that’s a whole nother story I can tell you some other time. I mean, I can tell you right now. Dunno if you wanna listen to a sob story on our last night together but hey, if you’re willin’-”

“Jesse.” Hanzo sighed.

“What?”

“You’re rambling.” he smiled.

Jesse bristled. “I know I am, Hanzo! Can you blame a guy, look at ya! I made an ass of myself and I’m tryin’ not to fuck up again. I just…. You look at me, Hanzo, like a friend. Not like you want something from me.”

Hanzo looked up at him fondly. There was a reason Hanzo snuck out those nights instead of letting the guards know he left. The elders would get curious, and Hanzo had jealously come to guard the secret that the prince had grown to consider him a friend. And if they knew that he was on friendly terms with royalty, they would urge him to use the connection to the family’s advantage.

Jesse kept going, “And if that’s what you wanna be, friends, then that’s just fine by me. It was wrong of me to assume, and inappropriate of me to say, and...”

He trailed off, because the look Hanzo was giving him was no longer simply fond. Jesse gulped.

“Fella, you gotta... uh… Hanzo. Hanzo. Hanzo? Was I wrong?” he dropped to a whisper and Hanzo reached out to pull at his cape and bring him closer. Jesse stumbled forward up a step and brought his arms up to brace himself against the pillar of the shrine.

He was lord of the province of Hanamura, his crime syndicate broke the law daily, and he was trapped between a wall, a pillar, and the arms of the Crown Prince. Fear of being caught and sent to a dungeon to await the gallows was not what set his pulse racing.

Hanzo had been touch-starved from the moment his mother passed. Twenty-four years, and he had never paid anyone any mind. Why would he? The elders would eventually set up an arranged marriage for him as they had for his father. He had no desire to experiment as Genji did. He saw what relationships did to people, why would he ever desire to put himself through such pointless agony? Hanzo took pride in that none of the pain he knew was derived of heartache.

But then, neither did any of the joy he knew derive of a love that went past the familial or platonic. He didn’t know how a pair of brown eyes would set his nerves ablaze as a hand slid up his chest and pushed gently until he fell back to sprawl on wooden steps. Jesse touched the nape of his neck and then slid up to tangle his fingers in the spill of his ink black hair after he pulled the yellow scarf from it. He settled his body over his, knees on either side of his thighs, one hand cupping his head against the hard floor of the shrine and the other ghosting along the folds of his yukata.

“Hanzo,” he breathed into the centimeters between their faces, “Tell me I’m reading the signs wrong, darlin’, and I’ll stop.”

He was the prince. He was the Prince of Gibraltar, a commander of Overwatch, and Hanzo had been a criminal from birth. Nothing about his current situation made any sense. He knew he should stop him. His decision should be to save himself the heartache he knew would follow when Jesse left, and when Hanzo left and made unbreakable ties with a gang and a pack of terrorists that did much worse than sell illegal weapons and drugs.

“No,” he whispered instead, and closed the little space between them to press their lips together.

He had never kissed anyone before, a press of lips was all he knew. Thankfully, that was all the initiative Jesse needed to make use of the hand in his hair to pull him closer and angle his head.

The shift allowed Jesse to part his mouth and take the swell of his bottom lip between his teeth, then coax them apart to lick into his mouth. Hanzo marveled at the novelty of the slide of their mouths, of Jesse’s giggles whenever one of them grew too forward and bumped their noses. The rasp of stubble against his barren cheek. The occasional clack of teeth and how Jesse responded by pulling away and trailing kisses down the line of his throat instead, letting the soft sounds Hanzo made meet the night breeze instead of his lips. Soft sounds turned sharp and cut short when Jesse nuzzled at the top hem of his robe, pushing it aside to suck a bruise against his collarbone.

He would have happily laid there all night, with the comfortable weight of Jesse settled on top of him, arms wrapped around him, warm. Content. Was that what it felt to be happy and unafraid? Safe? Could he trust Jesse to keep to his boundaries, to issue no orders in the safety of the bubble they’d created under the tapestry of twisting dragons? Would Hanzo even know his own limits, untried as he was? Hanzo didn’t know. Hanzo tried desperately not to care, but his mind latched to the idea of fear and held firm.       

Twenty-four years, and what did he have to show for it? Fear that that clotted his thoughts, soured the bright and happy feeling bubbling inside him.

He felt a calloused hand slip into his yukata and settle on the pale skin of his thigh, the warmth at his center became blazing. Fear peaked into panic, and he reached down to pull Jesse’s lips back up to his own in an attempt to keep it at bay. Jesse must have taken it for enthusiasm, because he moaned into the kiss, pushing back hard, gripping tighter and showing strength that thrilled him and terrified him at the same time.

The hand continued its journey upwards, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Hanzo felt himself respond with interest, but a sick feeling welled in his stomach and at the corners of his eyes.

“Stop!” The panic won out, he pushed at Jesse’s chest. And Jesse went. He blinked down at him, then carefully drew his hand back from the space between his thighs. He pulled the folds of his robe closed, straightened them out with a careful swipe of his hand.  

“Sorry. I’m sorry.” he said gently, and Hanzo had to hold back a sob. Jesse made to get off of him, but Hanzo’s hands gripped at his clothing.

“No.” he repeated, hoping he’d get as much understanding from the simple word this time as he had the last. Jesse stilled. He looked down at him with a kind expression, and his head cocked to one side.

“What do you need, sweetheart?” His eyes were so kind.

“Can we just…” Hanzo swallowed past the dryness of his throat. “Stay here, for a while longer? Not…” he let the implication hang between them, “Just. Stay here?”

“Well, I ain’t opposed to that, but I’m not crushin’ you. Here.” He flipped them around so that Jesse lay on the steps and Hanzo sat between his open legs. He felt his chin fall to rest on the top of his head, and his arms wrapped around him. Hanzo leaned back into his warmth. They watched the stars.

Tomorrow he would leave Hanamura with Genji. Tomorrow he would fulfill his duty to his family, build upon their empire, coerce with those that caused more damage to the crown than the Shimada-gumi had in his father’s time. Tonight, he would hold onto happiness while he could.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for the slew of probable typos i haven't edited and i won't until much later but in the meantime. Thanks for reading! Comments are appreciated! Have a good day/night!
> 
> Translations:  
> bō- an honorific, meaning little lord, used on little boys  
> Na-ege satangjuseyo- give me candy!  
> Na hante satang gajima- don't give me candy (i think my understanding of korean is very bad)  
> Quem é você- who are you  
> Meu nome é Hanzo. Este é o príncipe Jesse- My name is Hanzo. This is Prince Jesse  
> Apenas me diriges un palabra, pero resultas platicador con los pájaros. Me saliste un príncipe azul! Que carajo?- You barely say a word to me, but turns out you're a regular bird whisperer! You turned out to be a fairytale prince! What the hell?  
> Avó- grandma


End file.
